White Blindness at Home

Posted on June 28, 2004 in Body Language Coronary

The blindfold came down over my eyes again on Sunday morning. On Saturday, I’d been so proud of myself. I took my salt tablets to counter the heavy-handed sunlight. When I climbed the last trail, I felt winded at a couple of spots but the dizziness that brought me down on the Silverado Motorway on Memorial Day Weekend did not smite me.

On Sunday morning, I had a sore back. I got up to take some tylenol. Seven paces from the bed to the kitchen bar. As I fumbled for the pills, the white blindness descended. My head turned like a paint mixing rod and I stumbled across the living room, tripping over chairs and cat toys. I ended up next to the front door, where I knocked down a set of blinds that I have been meaning to install. I groped at the wall until clear sight returned and went back to bed.

When Lynn came home, the blinds blocked the door. With much pushing and shouting of my name, she gained entrance. When she got to my bedroom, I admitted to what happened.

What had happened? Perhaps all I needed to do was eat more salt. I had walked in the heat before and not experienced vertigo. But I had surrounded myself with potato chips, which I rejected as a permanent foodstuff because I tended to overeat them. Perhaps what I need to do is eat my salt tablets or drink Gatorade at the end of my walks.